


Mindbottling

by tripperfunster



Category: Blades of Glory (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripperfunster/pseuds/tripperfunster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knock on the head causes Chazz to lose a year of his life. As his memory slowly returns, he realizes that things have changed, and there's something important he has to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wakey wakey

The world came back in fits and starts. Muffled sounds that were familiar, yet somehow out of place. The scrape of chair legs on a linoleum floor. The rustle of cloth, so close that I could smell the starch. And mumbling. Well, they probably weren't actually mumbling, but the words were jumbled and difficult to understand. 

Then nothing for a while.

Someone was touching me, and I hoped she was hot. Sometimes, (well, all the time, really), when I drank too much, my standards would drop dangerously low, and I'd wake up the next day faced with an epic Coyote Morning. 

The touching stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was so baked, I couldn't even open my eyes. Man, this was going to be one evil hell-bitch of a hang-over. I figured it would probably best if I just fell back asleep. 

I woke up to a horrible beeping sound. An annoying, incessant, high pitched blip, blip, blip, sent from the ninth circle of hell, just to irritate the piss out of me and possibly drive me insane. 

Blip, blip, blip, blip…

Good Christ, people! Couldn't they see I was suffering from the Queen Latifa of hangovers here? Was the pounding in my head and the dog-crap taste in the back of my dry, spittle-caked mouth not enough? Did they have to drive me to madness with a high-heeled shoe to the temple as well?

I clenched my hands and jaw and tried to calmly count to ten, but the numbers were all jumbled around, and the freaking cunt of an alarm clock was pissing me the fuck off!

"Enough!" I roared, and sent my fist through the offending machine. The crash that it made, as it hit the floor was equally offensive to my poor ears, but I smiled anyway, for that goddamned beeping had finally stopped.

"Chazz!" I heard as I spiraled back into sleep.

"That's my name," I said, barely recognizing my own raspy voice, "don't wear it out."

~*~*

The next thing I remember was that it was daytime, and I was lying in a bed. A hospital bed, probably. I blinked, taking in the sunny surroundings. Dust motes floated lazily through shafts of light that cut across the cards and flowers adorning the room. Coach was there, too, sitting in one of the tacky, uncomfortable guest chairs, talking to a cute chick who was sitting down at the edge of the bed, near my feet.

She was tall, and slim, and had sexy blonde curls that cascaded past her shoulders down the center of her back. My eyes trailed lower, to the sweet curve of her ass, complimented by her gold-stitched designer jeans.

I don't believe in love at first sight, but lust at first sight is an emotion I am more than familiar with. I pursed my dry lips together and tried to whistle.

The sound was far from impressive, but it had the desired effect. Coach's gaze shifted from the hottie to me, and then she, too, turned to see what had gotten Coach's attention. 

Her eyes were as fantastic as the rest of her. Blue as the crystal waters of the Caribbean (or was that CaribbEAn?.) She broke into a familiar toothy grin and my jaw dropped.

The chick was a dude! And not just any dude: MacElroy! 

"Chazz!" Jimmy cried, throwing himself at me, crushing me in a hug. "My gosh! You're finally awake." He pulled back to look me in the face, then leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I didn't react right away due to shock, but I finally got my bearings, then pushed Jimmy away.

"Hey, big guy, I'm happy to see you, too, but you're kind of cramping my style here." Jimmy looked blankly at me, blond curls sweeping over his shoulders. "And what the fuck is with your hair?"

"Well, well," said an unfamiliar voice, "look who's awake."

We both looked up to see a nurse approaching the bed, clipboard in hand. I don't remember what her face looked like, but she had a set of sweater-cows that wet dreams are made of.

"Welcome to the world of the living, Mr. Michaels . How are you feeling?"

"I hope you brought the flibulator," I said, giving her a sly wink, "because I think you just stopped my heart."

"Defibrillator," mumbled Jimmy under his breath.

The nurse giggled and fluttered her lashes, and I knew I was in.

"Oh no," she said, flattered, "I'm just here to check your vitals." 

I grinned at the double meaning and pushed Jimmy away to make room for her.

"While you're down there," I said, pulling the front of my gown open, exposing my trademark hairy chest, "how about giving 'Little Chazz' a sponge bath? I'm feeling particularly dirty all of a sudden."

"Chazz!" shrieked Jimmy, "But… but…" 

"Sorry MacElroy, official hospital business. Why don't you come back in an hour." I grabbed the curtain and pulled it around the bed.

"Better make it two," said the nurse, giggling again, until her mouth became otherwise occupied. 

"B-but…" sputtered Jimmy, into the curtain, his skinny silhouette cut against the light from the doorway. I suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, hey!" I called, pulling it open a crack, "Did we win the gold?"

Jimmy's mouth opened and closed, then opened again.

"Which gold?" asked Coach, from behind him.

" Well duh, Montreal. Did the Iron Lotus work?"

Jimmy turned and looked at Coach, his features unreadable.

"Yeah, Chazz, we did. We won the gold," Coach said.

"Yes!" I crowed, closing the curtain. My busty nurse already had her uniform unbuttoned. I eyed her bounty and grinned. "Hey baby, ever done it with a four-time gold medalist before?"

"Not yet," she purred.

"Looks like I'm about to break another record."

The Jimmy shadow put its hands over its ears and ran from the room. 

~*~*

The doc came by that afternoon to give me the skinny on my 'condition.' According to him, the knock on my head had caused me to lose over a year of memories. The last thing that I could remember was the Iron Lotus in Montreal. Jimmy, grabbing me by my shattered ankle, his lips drawn back in concentration as we spun, gathering momentum. The force of the spin pushing all the blood to my head, the stands whipping by in a blur, and my muscles and tendons stretched to their limit, then I was airborne. Free. Weightless.

I arched my spine and threw back my head to put myself into the flip, then… nothing. Just waking up here in the hospital.

"Chazz?"

I looked up, realizing I'd missed Coach's question. 

"What?"

"Do you understand what the doctor has been saying?"

"Yeah," I said, irritated, "I'm not retarded. I've lost some memories. Big whoop. I've blacked out lots of times. Hell, I don't remember most of the Eighties. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," interrupted Jimmy, "is that you almost died."

God, he is such a mother hen sometimes. He'd been clinging to me like a will-not since I woke up. Even now, those pathetic baby blues were boring into me. I peered around him to maybe get a peek of Nurse Crotchet or whateverthehell her name was. Jimmy moved his head to block my view.

"You might never get those memories back."

"Yeah, I got that, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, thank you very much."

"Now, Mr. MacElroy, that's not necessarily true," said the Doctor, "it's very likely that Charles will regain those memories, but they will have to come back at their own pace. I don't recommend that you rush things. Sometimes too much information, especially out of context, can be very confusing to those suffering from mental incapacities." 

"I wasn't decapitated," I snapped, "and you don't have to talk about me like I'm a retard."

"No one is saying that you're not intelligent, Mr. Michaels."

"I am!" smirked Coach, while raising one hand in the air. 

I good-naturedly flipped him the bird and he winked.

"All I'm saying," continued the doc, "is that you should take things slowly. Recovering from head trauma is a long, slow process. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," I said, craning my neck, "Where's that hot nurse with the big hammers?"


	2. Dreamy Buttsects

Coming home was just as annoying. You would have thought I was a parrot-polegic instead of a guy who got cracked in the head. Jimmy brought home half the frickin' hospital's supplies to medicate me and change my bandages. I told him that if I was gonna play doctor, I'd need a nurse without the dangling crotch-luggage, thank you very much. 

The doctors had instructed him to wash the wound with antiseptic soap morning and night, and to check my eyes and ears for any drainage. Well, you know, any unusual drainage, anyway. And true to his word, we hadn't been home ten minutes before he was fussing over me and going at my head with crappy looking orange soap.

"What the fuck is that stuff anyway?"

"Betadine," he said, pushing my hands away and dabbing the moistened gauze on my head, "it's the stuff they used to clean you before surgery."

"What? Are you going to operate now? Ow!"

"Sorry!" he said, pulling back a little, "I just want to make sure it's clean."

"Get a mirror, I want to see it."

Jimmy looked to Coach, who just shrugged.

"It's his head," said Coach, "I suppose he's got a right to look at it."

"I dunno, Chazz, it's kind of gross."

"Yeah, not so gross that you can't keep your hands off it."

"No, really," said Jimmy, shifting nervously, "Uh… they had to shave your head a bit there. I don't think it's something you want to look at."

"They had to WHAT?" I shot a hand to the back of my head and Jimmy slapped it away.

"Your hands aren't clean! You can't touch it until you wash them."

"It's my fuckin' head, I'll touch it when I like."

"No, you won't," he said, pushing my arm down more forcefully.

"Fine, I'll touch it all night long when you can't stop me." 

"Huh," said Coach, back with two mirrors, "Chazz touching himself all night long, who'd've figured?" He handed me a mirror, then held the other one up behind my head.

The cut itself wasn't too bad, I guess most of the damage was on the inside, but MY HAIR! My beautiful, long silky hair!

"Holy Sweet Mother Mary of Shit Muffins!" I said, fingering the bald patch, "Did they think they were shearing a sheep?"

"It's not that bad," offered Jimmy, trying to be helpful, but not being helpful at all.

"Not that bad? Good Christ! I look like the 'before' picture for the Hairclub for Men!"

"Suck it up, you big baby," said Coach, moving his mirror so my crown of shame was no longer visible, "They were trying to keep you alive, not knee-deep in pussy. It'll grow back before you know it. And hey, worst case scenario, they can do a transplant from your chest."

I stroked my chest hair reflexively and tried not to pout. He was right. Plus, at least it was at the back. Most chicks wouldn't see it there anyway. A little bald patch wasn't going to stop Chazz Micheal Micheals, sex machine extraordinaire. Of course, crushing fatigue might. I yawned mightily and stretched.

"I'm gonna turn in," I said, getting up.

"Not yet," cut in Jimmy, "I still have to check your eyes and ears, and you need to take your pills." He placed the capsules neatly in front of me, then proceeded to inspect my face.

"Hey, Dr. Zhivago, I'm pretty sure that if my brains were leaking out of my eyes, I'd be aware of it."

"I'm not just checking for that," said Jimmy, pressing his thumb above my eyelid and peering intently, "I'm checking to see that your pupils are even."

"Even what?"

"What?"

"Even what? You're checking to see that they're even … what?"

"With each other, moron. Uneven pupils can be a sign of bleeding in the brain."

"Do you know what else can be a sign?" I asked.

"No, what?"

"Uncontrollable limbs," I said, smacking him in the head. 

"Ow!"

"Sorry," I said, smacking him again. "Oops, must be my brain damage."

"Cut it out."

"Can't … control … my limbs…" Smack.

"Fine!" he said, pushing away, "Die of brain damage, see if I care."

"Take your drugs," said Coach, taking the other mirror from me.

I popped the pills dry, and gave him a smile.

"I hope one was a 'lude."

"Nope, Prednisone," he answered, then shook his head. "Chazz Micheals on steroids. God have mercy on us all."

Ten minutes and one argument about my ability to manage my way up to the top bunk later, and I was resting on my own pillow. God, it felt great to be back home.

"G'night Chazz," Jimmy mumbled from the bottom bunk, but I was too far gone to reply.

~*~*

__

_I'm dreaming. I'm in our bedroom, sitting on a chair, naked. Jimmy comes in and closes the door behind him. His hair is long, like it was today, and although I teased him about it earlier, it really does suit him. I know this is a dream, because after pressing the door closed with his butt, he levels his gaze at me and begins to unbutton his shirt. Real-life Jimmy would rather be maimed by a pack of rabid raccoons than undress in front of me, and he certainly would never give me the red-hot sultry look that he gives right now._

_Shirt undone, he shrugs it off and begins to work on the fly of his jeans. My eyes travel down the smooth skin of his chest to watch his fingers nimbly pluck at the buttons there._

_He has beautiful hands, long and slim, just like the rest of him. I want them in my mouth. Hell, I want them in my ass! My cock twitches at the thought of his fingers on me -in me-, and that, of course, would be my second clue that I'm dreaming. I don't generally sport a boner for my partner, yet here's Chazz Jr., hard enough to pound nails with, and leaking man-juice against my stomach._

_I sneak one hand down there and rub him a bit, you know, just to settle him down. I look back to Jimmy, and his eyes are riveted on my hand, slowly stroking my prick. He licks his lips and my grip tightens in response. His jeans now undone, he pushes them and his underwear down over his slim hips, and works his feet free. As he walks towards me, I am hypnotized by the bobbing of his cock, and I don't realize that I've been staring at it until it is practically right in my face._

_Jimmy straddles my legs and slowly sinks down onto my lap, our cocks rubbing together, trapped between us. I make a low sound of approval and he puts his mouth over mine, his lips surprisingly cool and sweet._

_I grab his ass with both hands and pull him more tightly against me. He rolls his hips, sliding his prick along my own, and I make that sound again. Jimmy squeezes something into his hand, then slips it between us, coating us both with something cool and slippery. I push into the circle of his curled fingers as he spreads the lube over me._

_His other hand moves up to my shoulder, and he grips me while he shifts and lifts his hips up and off of mine. He takes my now slick prick and slides it along the cleft of his ass, before teasing at his own opening with it. My hands are still on his butt, and I gently spread him open as he lowers himself onto me, the head of my cock just breaching him._

_"Relax," I say, but I'm not sure if I'm talking to him or myself._

_He continues to bear down onto me until I'm balls-deep inside of him, then he rests his forehead against mine, taking deep breaths and letting his body adjust, and it is all I can do to not writhe and thrust beneath him._

_After a moment I feel the tension leave his shoulders and he nods against me._

_"Okay," he whispers and slowly begins to rock back and forth. I let him lead, his thighs working as he lifts himself then pushes down, again and again. Before long I am swept up into the movement until I am thrusting my hips off of the chair, pounding into him, and pulling him down onto me._

_His hands find my hair, tangling in it. We press our faces together, but kissing is a skill beyond both of us at this point, as we rut against each other, muscles taut and bodies slick with sweat._

_"I'm close," I say, and he nods, untangling one hand from my hair and pressing it between us and around his cock. I would be more than happy to do the honors of jerking him to completion, but my hands seem permanently affixed to his ass as I help him bounce up and down on me, not to mention that every ounce of my willpower is focused on not coming before he does._

_His body starts to curl, as his hand works frantically over his prick. I watch, fascinated, as his brows knit and his lips curl up in concentration. Fuck, he's beautiful._

_"Cumon, Jimmy," I grunt between thrusts, "come for me."_

_His eyes snap open for a second before rolling back in his head. His hips jerk, and that mouth, that perfect cupid's bow goes from a grimace to an 'o', then stretches into a smile. I take this as my cue to let loose, and in embarrassingly short amount of time, I, too, have shot my load, and we sit, tangled in each other, chests heaving and hearts pounding._

_Jimmy wriggles against me, my softening cock still inside of him, and plants trails of kisses along my neck and up my cheek._

_"That was amazing," he says, and I am so thrilled and proud that I almost choke, but instead I shrug and say, "Yeah, I know."_

_He smacks me playfully, then kisses my mouth, paying particular attention to my bottom lip._

_"I love you."_

 

ARRRGGGGHHH!! I woke up in a tangle of bed sheets, no less sweaty and spunk-covered than in my dream, but thankfully alone. Holy shit! What the hell was that all about? I got up on my elbows and dared a peek at the bunk below me. 

Jimmy was snoring softly, long hair fanned out on the pillow around him. Shit, he looked about fifteen years old. What the hell was wrong with me?

I quietly climbed off the bunk and went to the bathroom, to splash cold water on my face. Man, I looked like shit. Most of my bruises had started to fade, but my eyebrow was stitched up and my lip was still split. If I ever caught whoever the fuck had done this to me, I would rip him a new one.

I wiped my face on a towel and was surprised to see red.

Red.

Man, that reminded me of something. I waited for a minute, but forgot what I was trying to remember. I twisted some Kleenex and crammed in up my nose. Oh well, it would eventually come to me.

I removed my speedos and wiped at my goop-covered stomach with them before balling them up and tossing them in the laundry.

I was back in the bedroom, digging around in the drawer for more when I heard him shift.

"Chazz?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep, "you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, covering myself with a new pair. "I had to piss."

He was too tired to ask why that would require new underwear, and I was too stupid to make up an excuse, so I breathed a sigh of relief when he rolled over to face the wall. I quickly pulled them on and climbed back up to bed.

"Chazz?" he whispered again.

"What?"

"I'm glad you're home."

"Yeah," I answered, still confused by the effects of the dream, "me too."

~*~*


	3. Wonderwall

"Well, so far, so good," Jimmy said, peering into my face. He pushed my hair aside to check one ear and then the other, and then stopped in front of me again, pressing a thumb into my eyelid. His brow wrinkled and I couldn't help but think of the faces he had made in my dream last night. What had I called him?

Beautiful. Yeah, that was it. And he was, I guess. You know, for a guy.

Sure, he looks like a chick at first glance, but I've been on the wrong side of his fists more than once and let me tell you, I've never met a chick that can punch like him. That boy is all muscle.

Lean, strong muscle.

"Coach, do his pupils look even to you?"

"Even what?" asked Coach, and I was suddenly aware that I had drifted off, and was hard. Very hard. I casually dropped my hands into my lap, but luckily Jimmy was more interested in my eyeballs anyway.

Coach took a casual glance and shrugged, "They look fine to me."

"You think?" Jimmy leaned in even closer, his legs straddling mine just like he had last night. When we were …Oh fuck. When I was … thrusting-

"Back off, Princess," I said, shoving him away, "I've paid for lap dances that weren't that intimate." 

"Sorry," he mumbled, quickly leaving the room as Coach placed my pills on the counter.

"Cut him some slack, Chazz. He's just trying to help."

"Yeah, trying to help himself to my dick," I said, trying to sound tough. 

Coach grinned. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No!" I cried, but he looked from my pink cheeks to my hands in my lap and raised an eyebrow.

"Sure Champ, whatever you say."

"But … But …" I sputtered, but he was gone. Screw this shit, I thought, fingering the card in my housecoat pocket. I was going to take care of this once and for all.

*~*~

That night I was a little nervous to make the climb to my bunk. Jimmy had avoided me after my outburst that morning, and I stayed up late so that he would be asleep by the time I came to bed. A quick peek in his bunk confirmed that he was, or at least was pretending to be, so I climbed the pine ladder and listened to the springs creak beneath me as I lay down and found my pillow.

"No dreams about anal sex," I prayed, hoping the God of Sodomy was listening. "At least not with Jimmy. How 'bout some hot chick that's double-jointed?"

I lay there for a while, definitely NOT thinking about Jimmy. Or his legs. Or the fact that although he wasn't double-jointed, he was flexible enough to wrap both those legs behind his head. Yikes! Eventually, I drifted off.

I had worried for nothing. Instead of banging my partner, I dreamed of hot desert sand, palm trees and red. 

Red sun.

Red sky.

Red ground.

Jimmy was in trouble. I had to get to him.

An explosion.

More red.

Then nothing.

I had to tell the desert sun.

I woke up to another nose bleed, this one just a bit worse than the last. Well, at least I hadn't creamed myself this time. I rolled up my pillow case and stuck it in the laundry, then thought better of it and shoved it in the garbage instead. There was no point worrying Coach and Jimmy. with it. 

I flicked on the TV while I waited for the wad of Kleenex up my nose to work its magic. MTV was having some sort of Nineties tribute, and Wonderwall was playing.

Didn't we skate to this once?

I closed my eyes and tried to open my mind. I pictured myself on the ice. The feel of it beneath my blades, the smell of the zamboni, the harsh glow of the halogen lights. The Gallagher brothers singing in the background.

**"Today is gonna be the day  
** **That they're gonna throw it back to you.  
** **By now, you should have somehow,  
**Realized what you gotta do."****

_Jimmy is skating beside me, my arm around his waist. We're going at a pretty good clip, and he spins around to face me. He grins at me, then kicks his pick into the ice, propelling himself up and into a spinning jump._

_I grab his waist and throw him as hard as I can, into the air. He does three revolutions and I catch him on the way down, supporting him until he finds a clean edge. He seems cleanly planted, but he wobbles and our skates tangle together, and we both begin to fall._

_I grab him, to stop my weight from slamming him into the ice, and he grabs me back as his balance is thrown off. I take the brunt of our fall on my elbows and the force of the impact rattles my teeth. Jimmy's head makes contact with the ice, but only barely, and we slide to a relatively safe stop against the boards._

_We wait a moment, in shock, panting and grinning like fools, surprised that we both seem to be relatively unhurt. I can't stop staring at his mouth. It's so close to mine, that I wouldn't even have to lean in far to kiss him._

_My stomach flip-flops at the very thought of his lips on mine, and I wonder what he would taste like. Something sweet, no doubt. Froot Loops? Mentos? No, Skittles, I decide._

_"Are you okay?"_

_Oh shit! I've been lying on top of him and daydreaming for how long? I'm not ready to move._

_The sound of someone clearing their throats has us both looking up, and I scramble off of Jimmy at the sight of the senior MacElroy peering down at us._

_"Dad!" says Jimmy, brushing the frosty build- up from his clothes, "What are you doing here?"_

"We need to talk," says Darren, shooting me a look of utter loathing.

_'Don't start with me, old man,' I want to say, 'it wasn't ME who dumped him by the side of the road.' But I say nothing, of course, because it's not my place. I glare back accordingly, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I will rip him a brand new A-hole if he so much as lifts a finger to hurt Jimmy. MY Jimmy._

_"Are you okay with this?" I ask, and Jimmy nods and gives me a shrug as his dad leads him from the rink._

~*~*

 

"How long have you been here? And what's with your nose? Are you bleeding?"

"Chillax, Dr. Spock. It was just a little nose bleed, nothing to get your panties in a bunch."

I pulled a wad of tissue from one nostril and inspected it. A little blood, but not much.

"See?" I asked, waving it in his face. "No need for a transplant."

"I think we should call the doctor," he said, crossing his arms. "According to the sheet they gave us at the hospital, we're supposed to contact them if there's any sort of drainage."

"Speaking of drainage," I said, getting up, "I've got to drain the main vein."

"Wait a minute, Chazz, at least let me check your ears."

"No need," I said, smugly. "I've called in the professionals."

Jimmy looked at me blankly for a moment. "The … that nurse?"

I grinned. "Oh yeah, Nurse Crotchet!" I grabbed my package, in case he didn't get my drift. "I think she's gonna check me all over for any leaking fluids, if you know what I mean. She can't keep her nursey hands off the Chazz man, if you're smellin' what I'm cookin'."

"Yeah, I get the point."

I waggled my eyebrows at him and headed off to the shower. I wanted to be nice and clean before I got down and dirty. Man, this was going to be fun!

Twenty minutes later, I was a lot less happy.

*~*~

"What the fuck kind of medication do you have me on?"

Jimmy looked up from his book, wide eyed. "I dunno," he said, getting up and going to the cabinet, "Whatever they sent you home with. Why? Are you feeling okay?"

"No!" I yelled, "I am not feeling okay at all." 

"Did you tell the nurse about it?"

"No. I think it was pretty fuckin' obvious to her."

Jimmy gave me a puzzled look as he reached up to get the pills. His shirt lifted over his midriff, and my eyes raked over the smooth, creamy skin there.

"Prednisone and Amoxicillin. Do you think you're allergic?"

"I don't know," I said, still distracted, "I don't think so."

"You don't look sick," said Jimmy, pressing a palm to my forehead, "do you want to lie down?"

"Yeah." I nodded. I hadn't felt dizzy before he touched me, but the room now had an odd tilt to it.

"Where did nurse … Crotchet go?"

"I don't know. Away from here. In a hurry."

Jimmy fluffed the throw pillows as I lay back on the sofa. He grabbed the phone and began to press the numbers for the hospital.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What?"

"What are your symptoms?"

"Oh, yeah … um … I've been extra … soft lately."

"Soft?" Jimmy parroted, pressing through the automated directory. "You mean, like, your stool?"

"My stool?" I snorted a laugh into my hand. " No, man, my TOOL."

Jimmy gave me a long look, then pressed the disconnect button.

"Your tool. Like, your penis?"

"Yeah, my wang. My beaver-cleaver. It's as floppy as a basset hound."

"Really?"

"Yeah, man, it was terrible. I couldn't catch wood with Nurse Crotchet, and she's hot!"

"Yeah, she is," he agreed. "So, let me get this straight. Looking at her didn't give you a hard-on?"

"Looking at her. Touching her. Nothing."

"And … did she touch you?"

"Well, duh! Of course she did. A lot! But little Chazz just rolled over and took a nap!" 

Jimmy shrugged, obviously not grasping the severity of the situation. "Don't worry, Chazz, from what I understand, it happens to everyone."

"But I'm not everyone!" I sputtered, "I'm Chazz Micheals Micheals! It never happens to me. As in, NEVER. Not even when I'm wasted. Little Chazz has never failed to rise to the occasion." I raked my hands over my face and tried to calm my breathing.

"Well, what happened?"

"Nothing! Didn't I just tell you that? My cock wouldn't rock."

"No, Chazz. I mean what was different from before? You... uh, had sex with her at the hospital, didn't you?"

"Nah, she wouldn't have sex with me." I lay back down on the sofa and rubbed my temples. "Since I'd just woken up from a coma, she said it would be unmythical. Although, I thought that sounded kind of cool."

"Unethical," said Jimmy, distracted. "So … you didn't have sex with her?"

"No. We fooled around a bit, but no bumping uglies."

"Oh."

Jimmy sounded disappointed, which I thought was odd. Oh well, he doesn't get laid much, so I guess he's got to live vivaciously through me.

"Tell you what," he said brightly, "I'm going to the rink later today, do you want to come? You shouldn't skate yet, of course, but I'd love to have some company."

"I dunno," I said. I wasn't exactly in the best mood.

"C'mon," he pouted, "It's not the same without you, Chazz. Please?"

He fluttered his eyelashes at me, and I sighed.

"Fine," I huffed, "I'll go."

"Sweet! I've got some chores to do, but how about we go after lunch?"

"Fine, whatever." Of that whole last sentence, the only word I heard was LUNCH. Yeah, I needed a sandwich.


	4. Roastbeef

_I'm digging through the fridge in search of red meat. I'm not sure why, but I've gotten it into my head that I want a roast beef sandwich with extra mustard and I'm going to have to hop into the car and drive to Arby's if I can't find what I need here._

_Jimmy is prissing around and clucking like a hen at the mess I'm making as I empty out the fridge in my desperate search for protein._

_The phone rings, but I take no notice of it, because I think I've spotted my prize at the back of the meat drawer. I pull out the soggy plastic zip-lock and turn it over in my hands, looking for a 'best before' date._

_Two weeks ago. Shit._

_I open it anyway and give a test-sniff._

_"Does this smell okay to you?" I ask, waving it in Jimmy's face. He is standing in the middle of the kitchen, the phone in his hand._

_"Who was it?" I ask, waving the meat packet at him. "Wrong number?"_

_"Jesse," he says, rooted to the spot, "It's Coach. He's … he's had a heart attack."_

_"What?" I toss the meat away and turn to look at Jimmy. I think he must be joking, but he's just standing there, blinking, still gripping the disconnected phone._

_I take it from him and place it back on the cradle. "What did he say?"_

_Jimmy blinks a few more times before answering. "He was … they were at a restaurant, and Coach just sort of collapsed. They're at the hospital."_

_I put an arm around his shoulders and steer him towards the couch. "Cumon," I coax, "sit down. I'll get you something to drink."_

_"Jesse said-" Jimmy's mouth continues to work, but no sound comes out. "The doctors are working on him … Oh God!" His lip starts to tremble and I have to fight the urge to run away. I hate it when people cry. I never know what to do or say._

_"He's going to come and get us when … if …"_

_His forehead is getting all wrinkly too, and I steel myself for blubbering_

_"But what if he doesn't? What if …" Jimmy makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat and I pull him to my chest as he breaks into sobs._

_"Hey, shhh," I say, feeling incredibly unequipped to soothe him. I pat his hair clumsily as he grips my shirt and buries his face in it._

_"It's okay man," I say. His shoulders shake with each round of sobs and I pull him more tightly in the circle of my arms and press my lips to the top of his head. "S'okay," I repeat, over and over, my hand stroking his hair._

_"I'm sorry," he says, still trembling against me._

_"S'okay, buddy." I kiss his forehead, then his temple, "S'okay." I kiss the tears from his cheeks and he tilts his face up and his mouth finds mine. It is wet, and breathy, but oh God - so soft and sweet. My tongue touches his, and the realization of what we are doing streaks through me like a jolt of electricity._

_My moral compass, small as it may be, screams that this is wrong, that I shouldn't take advantage of my best friend in his time of pain. The much larger douche-bag portion of my brain roars in triumph and round-house kicks my moral compass in the face. Jimmy is kissing me! My Jimmy! And moral compass or not, I'm sure as hell not going to stop him._

_The sofa now forgotten, I push him against the closest wall and press myself against him, feeling his heat, his heaving chest and oh God, his hardness. He's hard! I deepen our kiss and rub myself against him. He groans and his head falls back against the wall with a thunk._

_I attack his throat, sucking and biting along the pulse, my hands sliding down his back and gripping him closer. He lets out a strangled half moan/sigh and I come in my pants right then, like a horny teenager. Oh shit buckets! I haven't done that since before I had pubes._

_I slide down to my knees so that my face is level with his crotch. He looks down at me, eyes wide, and I rub my chin along his hardness. He lets out a surprised huff of air, and then a quiet "Shiiiit." I grin against his jeans and set about getting them off of him._

_I pop the top button, then slide the zipper down with my teeth. He presses his hips forward, and I mouth him through the soft cotton of his underwear. I take my time, peeling his jeans away while still tonguing the now wet material with his straining heat beneath._

_I place one hand against his stomach, and marvel at the way the muscles flutter underneath my touch. He smells amazing, and I can taste the tang of his arousal even through his tighty-whities. I suck harder, relishing the flavor, and he begins to jerk._

_"Oh shit. Oh please" he breathes. Jeans now around his knees, I take mercy on him and release him from the confines of his Y-fronts._

_His cock is as beautiful as the rest of him and I eye it hungrily, before dragging my lips across the length of it. His knees threaten to buckle, and I use my hands to press his hips against the wall, before wetting my lips and letting him slip inside my mouth._

_He moans again, and I would have creamed myself a second time if I was any younger. I pull back, then press forward again, working my tongue along the underside of his prick. One shaking hand grabs my head for support and I tighten my grip on his hips to ensure he won't fall._

_In and out. In and out. I set up a rhythm, and before long, he tenses up and cries out, and I do my best to not look like an amateur and choke on his jizz. I release my grip on him and he slowly slides down the wall until he is sitting face to face with me._

_Now that I've gotten what I wanted, my conscience manages to speak more loudly. That was a really shitty thing to do; taking advantage of him like that. I brace myself for a verbal attack, but instead, he gently pushes my hair out of my eyes and ducks his head to look into my face._

_He seems to think about what he's going to say, but then settles with "Wow."_

_"Surprise!" I say, trying to sound flip, and failing miserably at it._

_"I … I didn't know you liked boys," he says, carefully._

_"I don't like boyZAH," I say, emphasizing the plural, "just one."_

_"Really?" he asks, sagely. "Do I know him?"_

_I look at him, confused, then he cracks a smile._

_"I uh …" he pauses, unsure of how to continue. "I've been hoping you would do that for a long time now." He looks down at his lap, then back at me, horrified. "I mean, not THAT, but um…"_

_"Kiss you?" I ask._

_"Yeah."_

_"Okay," I say, and place my mouth over his again._

 

"Are you going to make a sandwich with that? Or write it a love letter?"

I looked down at my hands and was surprised to see that I was holding a package of roast beef. "I uh …a sandwich, I guess."

Coach leaned forward, a look of concern creasing his brow. "Are you okay, Chazz? You look like you're crying."

I put a hand up to my cheek and wiped at the wetness there. "No. But I think I might be remembering stuff."

"Really," he said, putting his own sandwich down on his plate, "What kind of stuff?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but then shut it. Shit. To say out loud that I think I'd been banging Jimmy made it sound even more … wrong. Hell, Coach was like a father to him.  
I jerked as a jolt of pain shot through my forehead. When I pulled my hands away from my face, they were red. 

Red.

Why did that seem familiar? I stared at them dumbly, my mind searching for that memory, until Coach shoved a wet towel against my face and pushed me down onto a kitchen chair.

"Chazz! What the hell was that? You flinched, said something crazy about the sun, then blood started pouring out of your nose." He pulled the towel from my face to check the bleeding, then put it back on. "Keep pressure on it, I'm gonna get Jimmy."

"I'm fine," I said, tilting my head back, "it was just a … What? What kind of sun?"

"I don't know, desert? Yeah, the desert sun," said Coach, shrugging. "You said something else too, but I was too busy watching blood spew out of your nose to catch it. Now sit tight."

I nodded and pressed the cloth to the bridge of my nose.

"Coach, wait!" I called, stopping him in the doorway, "Did you have a heart attack last year?"

He considered the question for a moment, then; "No." He turned to go and my chest felt suddenly heavy. Then these weren't memories after all. Just dreams, or … visons, or some fucked up sexual fantasies.

"Oh wait," he said pausing, "You must mean my angina attack. Yeah, was hospitalized last year." He left to get Jimmy and my own heart began to beat faster.


	5. A Vision

Jimmy pressed experimentally on the bridge of my nose.

"I'm fine." I said, "I've probably just been picking it too much." It had been two hours since my nose did its fire hose impression, and he'd been watching me like a hawk. A blond, curly haired hawk. I shifted in my chair while he stared at my pupils.

"Sit still," he said, grabbing my jaw, "When you tilt your head like that I can't see." I put my head back up looked back into those snow-cone blue eyes.

_He runs a hand across the rough stubble on my chin and gives me a smile that promises things to come._

_"I should shave," I say, apologetically._

_"No, I like it," he says, rubbing his nose over the same spot, "you should grow a beard."_

_I laugh at the thought and shake my head no. "Too itchy,"_

_He lays his head on my chest, and my fingers twine through his soft curls._

_"You know what you should do, Jimmy, you should grow your hair long."_

_"Really?" he asks, head popping up to see if I'm kidding._

_"Sure,"I say, "Why not?"_

_He puts his head back down on my chest and sighs. "You don't think I'd look too girly?"_

_A thousand smart-ass remarks run through my mind, but I push them away. "No. I think you'd look hot."_

_"I dunno, Chazz," he says, yawning and settling into the crook of my arm, "Maybe. I'll think about it."_

 

"You're staying home."

"Forget it, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Chazz. You should probably be seeing a doctor."

"I 'saw' a nurse this morning."

Jimmy sighed, his mouth pressed into a fine line. "I don't like this."

"Tough," I said, getting up. "Get your skates, we're going to the rink."

~*~*

"We don't have the entire rink to ourselves, of course, but we have twenty-four hour access, and every second afternoon we have two hours of private prime time."

I nodded, taking everything in around me, hoping that something might jog my memory. Tiny little hockey players were leaving the ice and they looked up with big smiles as we approached.

"Hi Jimmy! Hiya Chazz!" they called, waving their sticks in salute. Jimmy grinned ear to ear as he patted their little helmets and returned the hellos.

"Hey Chazz," called one chubby boy, "can I see your scar?"

I hesitated, afraid that he might laugh at my bald spot. God knows there's nothing worse than being laughed at by a fat kid, but I turned to him and bent my head down anyway.

"Cool!" he cried.

"Gross!" squealed another, but it was meant as a compliment I'm sure.

"Okay guys," said Jimmy, shooing them away, "Chazz needs some space." The kids reluctantly followed their teammates down to the change rooms.

"They're cute," I said. Something was tugging at the edge of my memory, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Yeah," said Jimmy, still grinning, "they're great. And they just love you Chazz. You're their hero."

"Yeah, whatever," I said. Drugged up sex-addicts aren't exactly heroes. "Now go skate."

I sat in what would amount to the penalty box and heaved a sigh of relief. I would never admit it to Jimmy, but being out was taking its toll on me. Just walking up the steps had tired me out. I leaned back against the boards and closed my eyes as Jimmy laced up.

The rink smelled good. Familiar. If I hadn't been so hog-tired I would have loved to lace up myself.

Jimmy hopped onto the ice and skated a few warm up laps. For the first time since I'd come home from the hospital, he looked genuinely happy. I gave him a thumbs up as he skated by and he grinned in return.

A quick nod to the sound booth and the speakers crackled with acoustic guitar. It took a second to register, but then I placed the song. Wonderwall.

Huh. I was right! We had been rehearsing to this.

Jimmy skated to center ice and lifted his arms in the starting position, then began to skate as the verse began.

Man, watching him skate was completely memorizing. He's a great skater, but I guess I had never just sat and enjoyed a performance. When we were competing against each other, I refused to look. God, I hated him back then, with his fancy costumes and his faggoty hair.

Waving to the crowd while Coach and that fuck-wad excuse for a father patted him on the back.

My head began to ache as I watched Jimmy glide across the ice.

**And all the roads that lead to you were winding  
** **And all the lights that light the way are blinding  
** **There are many things that I would like to say to you  
**I don't know how****

**I said maybe  
** **You're gonna be the one who saves me ?  
** **And after all  
**You're my wonderwall****

 

"I'm gonna go shower. You gonna be okay?"

I was surprised to look up at an out of breath Jimmy. Wow, had it been two hours already? I must have dozed off. I nodded and Jimmy headed down to the locker rooms. 

More little hockey players were filing in, stuffed to the gills with equipment and padding. I got up to make room for them, but at the last second decided to step out onto the ice.

God, it felt like forever since I'd been on a rink. I kept one hand tentatively on the boards as I shuffled around, feeling that familiar slickness beneath my shoes. Kids and parents started to fill the stands, and I decided go back and return to my seat. Jimmy would crap himself if he saw me on the ice.

"Daddy!" cried one little kid off to my right, "I want an ice cream."

The shrill voice drilled into my already sore head, and I leaned more heavily on the boards as I made my way back.

"Dadeeeeeeee!!"

That high pitched whine went straight to my brain and I suddenly lost my balance, falling to one knee. I tried to get up, but was unable, so I put out my hands and began to crawl.

"Hey buddy, are you okay?" asked someone beyond my range of vision.

"Daddy, please!" cried the little girl and I was filled with such a sudden and overwhelming panic, that I almost puked, but through my pounding heart and tight chest I had one clear thought.

Jimmy was in danger. 

I stumbled to my feet and staggered off the ice. Hands reached out to grab me, but I shook them off. I had to get to him! They were going to kill him! I lurched under the stands to the changing area.

Oh god. Oh fuck! Where was he? I ran past endless locker rooms, calling his name. Shit, why couldn't I remember? I know we'd been rehearsing here for months, but the basement was a maze of identical cinder block walls and doorways.

"Jimmy!" I screamed, my head pounding with fear.

"Chazz?"

Was that him? Was he still alive? I burst through a door to find him standing by the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, reaching out to steady me.

"You!" I huffed.

I clutched him to me and buried my face in his neck. Thank God. Oh, thank God! A tidal wave of relief crashed over me, mixing with adrenaline, panic and fear. Jimmy's arms slowly went around me and he tentatively patted my back.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

I both nodded and shook my head, then crushed him closer to me. I had felt with such certainty that he was hurt or dead, that I still couldn't believe that he was all right. 

"Chazz, I can't breathe," he squeaked out. 

"I thought … I was sure you were ..." I tried to loosen my grip on him, but found myself unable. "I had a terrible feeling that you were … dead." My voice began to crack and I buried my face deep into the crook of his neck.

'Pull it together, Nancy,' I told myself. Sobbing like an idiot wasn't going to achieve anything here. I willed myself to take a deep breath and chill. I released my death grip on him and pulled back to look him in the eye. "Jimmy," I said, my voice even, "you're in danger. We've got to get out of here."

"From who? Hector's back in jail, he can't touch me. Who else would want to hurt me?"

"I don't know who," I said, realizing how crazy I sounded. "You just have to trust me on this. You're in danger, Jimmy," I said, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him, "we have to go!"

"Hey," he said, brushing my cheek, "I'm okay. I think your memories are just jumbled up, and you're confused. I'm fine. Really."

I shook my head and began to protest, but he pulled me into a hug. "Just try to relax, and let this pass." One hand slid up and rubbed my back, and I slumped against him. "Breathe Chazz, just try to breathe."

"Okay," I said, drawing in a few shaky breaths, my face still pressed into his shoulder. He smelled … safe, familiar. I turned my head so that my nose brushed against the junction of neck and collarbone and inhaled again. He hadn't yet showered, and I savored the heady smell of salty skin and fresh sweat.

His other hand slid around me and rubbed slow circles across my shoulder blades.

"S'okay Chazz, I understand. It's just going to take some time until things settle down in your mind. The doctor said that you just have to let yourself recover at your own pace."

"I know," I said, feeling the panic slowly begin to fade, "it's just that …" 

"What?" asked Jimmy. "Tell me."

"I've been remembering stuff," I whispered, letting my hands travel around his waist.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, shifting ever so slightly closer against me.

I nodded into his neck, the saltiness there making my lips tingle. "About us." I lifted my face, grazing my mouth against the edge of his jaw. Jimmy pulled back and looked at me, wide eyed, then swallowed with an audible click.

His eyes moved to my mouth, and I self-consciously licked my lips. This was insane. I was about to tell him to forget about it. That I was crazy for even thinking that he'd be attracted to someone like me. That he was young and gorgeous and God, so beautiful on the ice. He could have anyone that he wanted, and obviously, it wouldn't be an over the hill, drugged up sex addict.

But then he was kissing me. Kissing me! His mouth hot and fierce against mine, hands clutching and searching and grabbing. Oh, the taste of him! The flick of his tongue against mine! The pounding of his chest pressed against my own. My poor heart had barely stopped racing from running through the endless basement corridors, and now it was beating so fast I could barely breathe.

Something snapped in my brain, and another memory burst forth.

_Jimmy's on his stomach, on our bed, looking back at me, brows knitted with worry._

_"You're too big," he says, "you'll crack me in half."_

_"Trust me," I say, running my hands over his smooth flesh. "You'll be begging me for it, I promise."_

_He does not look convinced. I fill one palm with sweet smelling oil, and rub my hands together to warm it, before spreading it over his back and shoulders, smoothing the tight muscles. As the tension drains, he sinks into the sheets, and I work lower, down to the small of his back, pressing my thumbs into the two pronounced dimples there._

_"That feels great," he mumbles into the mattress, and I take that as permission to move even lower as I slip one hand between his cheeks and gently caress him. He spreads his legs slightly and I carefully push the tip of my finger in. I use my other hand to reach underneath him and give his cock a little attention, and while he is happily distracted, I push that finger farther in._

_"You okay?" I ask, and he nods, humping the hand beneath him. I press a second finger in with the first, and although he tenses slightly, he is soon moving his hips and pressing back into me._

_"More," he moans, but instead of adding another finger, I push the two in further and curl them just right._

_"Oh!" he cries, and I quickly withdraw my hand._

_"What? Did I hurt you?"_

_"No," he laughs, "That was … well, amazing. What the heck did you do?" He sticks his butt in the air and I replace my hand, easily finding his slick heat. "Do it again," he says, and I gladly push in and find his sweet spot. He grunts, and the way he curls his toes makes me want to jump him right then and there and fuck him senseless, but I know, that if I ever want him to let me do this again, I'd better take it slow and make sure he enjoys it too._

_His moaning tells me I'm on the right track and I add another finger. He is writhing and grunting when I spread my hand and guide my cock in. He stills as I enter him, but doesn't tell me to stop, so I continue, inch by inch. I press my mouth to the back of his neck, tasting the salt and feeling his damp curls tickling my nose._

_"Breathe," I tell him, and I pull out a little and then push back in._

_He does, one deep breath after another. I pull back and press forward again, and this time his breath has an edge to it._

_"Chazz," he cries, and I bring one hand around him and grab his dick. I groan and sink my teeth into that salty patch of neck. Oh shit! He's so fucking tight and I feel myself losing control._

_"Chazz!" he calls again, and the taste of salt on my tongue becomes oddly metallic._

"CHAZZ!" My eyes rolled forward from the back of my head, and I slowly focused on Jimmy's face. I was confused as to how Jimmy went from beneath me to on top of me.

"Chazz, are you okay?" I blinked dumbly for a moment, trying to decide if I WAS okay. We were in the showers. At the arena. I'd been dreaming. Or fantasizing again. Or had I? Did he kiss me?

I opened my mouth to ask him, but a glut of blood spewed out of me, spilling down the front of my shirt. The white cotton staining a dark, dark red. Why was that familiar? There was something important that I needed to remember. Something else that was red like this.

I heard Jimmy call my name again, but he seemed so far away, and this memory, this elusive bitch of a memory that had been teasing me for so long, seemed almost within reach. I hesitated, then dove into the darkness, grasping desperately at the wisps of this recollection.


	6. Supernova

_Their hands dig into my face and neck as they hold me down. I struggle against them, but there are too many and I am too weak. He slips something into my pocket and I hear the gun cock behind me._

_I'm sure, that after they kill me, they'll go after Jimmy. I have to save him._

_The gun fires and my head explodes into a thousand pieces._

_JIMMY!_

I lashed out and was woken up by a terrible crash. I looked around the room, panicked and confused. The hospital. I was back at the hospital. My lunch tray had overturned and saltines and Jell-o had spilled all over the bed and floor.

"I know the food sucks, but it doesn't move most people to violence."

I looked up to see Coach, who gave me a salute. "Welcome back, Chazz."

"They shot me," I said, one hand carefully examining my head.

"I know. That's why you're back here. Apparently the bullet lodged in your sinuses and that's what was causing the nosebleeds."

"But how … why didn't I die?"

"The doctors don't quite know. I guess the bullet hit that rock of a brain of yours and ricocheted back up into your sinuses. They x-rayed your head the first time you were here, but they were looking for fractures, not bullets. I guess that squished up bit of metal just looked like a dental filling."

There was a long silence while he allowed me to wrap my head around this information.

"I remember that there was at least two of them, and they held me down. And shot me."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"Yeah," I said cautiously, and Coach nodded expectantly.

"Go on."

I fiddled with my blankets, then took a deep breath. He was either going to kick my ass or laugh at me, but the whole thing was too mindbottling to hold inside.

"Jimmy," I said, finally, "I'm pretty sure … at least I think that we're…" Man! How do you tell someone that you're driving the Hershey Highway?

"A couple?" Coach suggested.

"Yes!" I cried, seizing the word with relief. "A couple! But like, not friends, but like a guy and girl couple. Except that, you know, he doesn't have a vagina." 

"No, I don't suppose he does," laughed Coach.

"You … you're not mad?"

"No," he smiled, "you two have been together for months now. And while it's not exactly public knowledge, it's hardly a secret either. I was relieved when it finally happened, I'll tell you. Watching the two of you switch between fighting and making googly eyes at each other was driving me crazy. And when you two finally decided that what you were feeling for each other wasn't hate, but something else entirely, it was like a supernova."

"Supernova." I repeated. God, who did that song? Why did that remind me of something?

"Chazz? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking the ever-present feeling that I'd forgotten something important. "But Coach, what I don't understand is, why?"

"What do you mean? Jimmy's a great kid! Talented, good looking, honest …"

"No, I mean me. Why the hell would he waste his time on me?"

"Hell if I know," he said, but couldn't hide his grin. I scooped up some Jell-o and chucked it at his head, just missing him.

"You're a loud, obnoxious, egotistical oaf."

"And an addict," I added.

"And an addict," he agreed, "but you're also funny, talented, hard working and loyal. Almost to a fault."

"You forgot sexy," I prompted as he tossed the Jell-o back at me.

"Please, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."

I leaned back into my pillows and marveled at it all. It was true! My dreams weren't just some sick, perverted fantasy. They were a sick, perverted reality. Cool! 

"Hey wait!" I said, "If we're so head over heels for each other, like you say, then why didn't he say anything to me about it after the accident?"

"Two reasons," sighed Coach, as he reached into his pocket and removed a letter. "The doctor thought it best that you remember things at your own pace, and this." He held the letter out to me.

"What is it?" I asked, taking it.

"A note. To Jimmy. This was the only thing on you when you were found. No wallet, no money, no I.D. Just this note."

I unfolded the piece of paper and looked it over.

**Dear Jimmy,**

**After much consideration, I've decided to move on. We have had a successful partnership, albeit a short one, but I've had multiple offers overseas and I've decided my interests would be better served there.**

**Chazz**

I looked up at Coach, who just shrugged.

"What does 'albait' mean?" I asked. When Coach shook his head, I read the line to him; "Successful partnership, albeit a short one."

Coach looked at me for a moment, then broke into a grin.

"Albeit. All Be It."

"What the fuck kind of word is that?"

Coach's grin widened, but I couldn't see what was so funny.

"What are you so happy about? I just remembered that I found Jimmy, and now I'm dumping him to go to Canada."

"Don't you get it Chazz? You didn't write that note."

"I didn't?"

"No. I always had my doubts, but this clinches it. I gotta call Jimmy and tell him."

I pushed my blankets aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Man, I gotta take a leak. Where is Jimmy anyway? If we're bum-buddies, the least he could do is play nursemaid with me."

"I don't know," said Coach, searching his jacket for his cell phone, "his dad had called and asked Jimmy to meet him downtown. Some family emergency or something. God, I hate that jerk."

"I comprende, mi amigo," I said, getting off of the bed, "that guy is a triple-A prick in my books. In fact, I was just thinking— FUCK!" I slipped on the Jell-o covered floor, cracking my head on the lunch tray on my way down. "Fuckity fuck!"

As I struggled to get up, my fingers smeared the red gelatin on the floor tiles. Red like the sun. Red like blood.

Desert. 

No, dessert. 

My stupid feeble-assed mind groped around the difference. Desert/dessert. Sun/son. Oh fuck. Deserted son. He deserted his son! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Darren had done this to me. I looked up at Coach, who had gotten to his feet.

"What's wrong, Chazz?"

"Where's Jimmy?" I choked out.

"I just told you, he's with his father … Why? Jimmy went to meet him an hour ago. Oh God, Chazz, you don't mean to tell me …"

"Get me my shoes," I said, getting to my feet, "I'm gonna go kick some ass."

"But we don't even know where they are."

"Shit, you're right," I said, pounding my head with one fist. Maybe I could jar something loose. "I know it's in there, Coach. I just don't know how to get it out."

"Think, Chazz," he said, handing me my pants, "up until now, what has triggered your memories?"

"Jimmy," I answered. "When Jimmy kissed me, a whole bunch of stuff surfaced."

Coach looked at my mouth for a moment, then shook his head.

"What?" I asked, defensively. "Were you actually thinking of kissing me?"

"Well …" he frowned, "if you think it would help."

"Dude, I may be gay, but I'm not THAT gay."

Coach burst out laughing. "Okay, what else? A word? A smell? A song?"

"Yeah, something you said before."

"Before what?"

"Before, when we were talking about me and Jimmy. You said it was like 'something' when we got together.

"Annoying?"

"No, after that. It's like … like the handshake thing that Jimmy and I do."

"Supernova?"

"Yeah!" I said, hoping for a mental miracle.

"Supernova." Coach repeated, and I shut my eyes, willing my brain to work.

Nothing. "Gah!" I pounded my head, "I'm so stupid!"

"That's too bad," said Coach, "I thought that removing that bullet might help. I had really hoped that today was going to be the day that it was gonna come back to you."

**By now, you should've somehow realized what you gotta do.**

"That's it!" I cried.

"What is?"

"That! Those words. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now."

"Wonderwall?"

"Yes! They're at the Wonderwall!"

"Chazz, there's no such place as the Wonderwall. And what the hell does that have to do with a supernova?"

"I dunno," I answered, but I felt we were getting close.

Supernova/Wonderwall.  
Supernova/Wonderwall

"Well fuckin' duh!" Coach said, jumping up. "Of course!"

He grinned at me and I suddenly understood it too.

"They're at the Oasis!" we both shouted. 

I grabbed my jacket and we rushed to the Oasis Hotel to save Jimmy.


	7. The Oasis

The Oasis was originally beautiful, but as the area became more run down and seedy, so did the hotel. It had gone from a place where the rich and famous would stay while visiting the city, to a place for middle-class honeymooners to vacation, to a dump for crack whores and scumbags to do business.  
Eventually, it was shut down by the health department and remained that way for years. 

'I don't know why Jimmy's dad bought it,' I thought, as we pulled up behind the ramshackle dump, 'but he certainly hadn't made any improvements on it since.'

"We should call the cops," I said.

"I can't find my cell. Maybe we should find a pay phone?"

"There's no time, Coach. Jimmy's in trouble and I've got to save him."

Coach looked doubtful, but nodded anyway. His trust gave me a boost of much needed courage. I fingered the door handle and nodded back. 

"Let's go kick some ice."

It was a warm day and the heat downtown was oppressive. Maybe it was my nerves, but I was already damp with sweat by the time we had reached the back doors. Not surprisingly, they were locked.

"What now?" asked Coach, jiggling the handle.

"A little something I like to call the 'Detriot VIP Access." I took a credit card from my wallet and using my teeth, ripped out a notch just below the top. I then slid it down through the slot between the doors until it caught on the bolt. Then I tipped the card up and pulled. The door snicked open and I spread my hands. "Tadaa!"

"Huh," he said, "Back in Vermont we just call that 'Break and Enter."

"Tornado, tor-naudo," I smiled, pulling the door open and peering inside.

"Does anything look familiar?" he asked, pressing in behind me.

"I can't tell, it's too dark." We both stood in the back lobby letting our eyes adjust to the dim light after the door clicked shut behind us.

"What now?"

I put up a finger to shush him. I could hear voices coming from further down the corridor. We tiptoed down the empty hallway, stopping in front of the door which seemed to be the source of the muffled voices. I pressed my ear against the wood and strained to make out what they were saying. Coach leaned an ear against it too, and we stared at each other while the conversation played out.

"Face it, the two of you are through. He's never gong to recover enough to skate again. At least not at an Olympic level."

"You don't know him like I do. I have faith that he will."

"Come on, Jimmy, this is a great chance for you to revive your career. Move on from the laughing stock of men's pairs. You proved that you could make it on your own, now why struggle when you don't have to? Not to mention, this would be a great chance for us to spend some time together. Mend our relationship."

"You disowned me, remember? We don't have a relationship."

I tried the door handle, but it was locked. I was about to reach for my wallet and get out my 'VIP Access card' when the conversation turned ugly.

"He's a good for nothing has-been, Jimmy. Open your eyes! He's only got a year or two left, max, and after that, he'll be lucky if the Ice Capades will have him.

"Sorry Dad, your offer is very generous, but I'm going to have to pass."

"Don't make my force your hand, Jimmy."

"No, I've made my decision and it's final. What are you - Dad! What are you doing?"

"I gave you an opportunity Jimmy, and you just threw it in my face. You should know by now that I don't take no for an answer."

"But Dad, a gun? This is crazy! What are you going to do, shoot me?"

Coach and I locked eyes.

"Dad! No!"

A shot rang out and my stomach turned to jelly.

"JIMMY!" I bellowed, and slammed all of my weight against the door. It burst open surprisingly easily and Coach and I both tumbled through and landed in a heap on the other side.

"Jimmy!" I cried again, afraid to look and see his crumpled body on the floor by Darren's feet. Except it wasn't.

It was Darren on the floor, holding his bloody arm and Jimmy standing over him, gun pointed at his head. His hand shook so badly that he had to bring the other one up to steady it.

"Don't do it," I said, untangling myself from Coach and getting to my feet.

"But he-" Jimmy began, hands shaking even more, "he was going to kill me."

"I know," I said, slowly inching towards him, "he tried to kill me too."

Jimmy's mouth fell open and he leveled his red-rimmed gaze at Darren. 

"Dad ... how could you?"

Darren shook his head. "He's lying. Or confused. I wouldn't do that, Jimmy."

Jimmy cocked the gun and stilled his trembling hands.

"I didn't! I swear!" he cried, letting go of his bloody arm and holding up his hands. "Plus, he was going to leave you anyway."

Jimmy looked to me then back at his father. "What do you mean?"

"The note," said Darren, "didn't that letter say he was leaving? You were going to lose him either way."

"The only way you would have known about that note," interrupted Coach, "is if you had planted it yourself. That's something that the police never released to the press."

"How could you?" whispered Jimmy, a solitary tear spilling down his cheek. "You took everything I had and dumped me at the side of the road, like an animal, and now, when I've managed to build it back up and make a life of my own, you went and took it all away again. I was happy, Dad. For the first time in my life I was truly happy."

Jimmy looked at me and another tear spilled forth. "And even though you didn't kill him, you took him away from me anyway. The one person who loved me just for me, and now he doesn't remember a thing." Jimmy wiped his face on his shoulder then leveled the gun to Darren's head.

"I'm sorry Dad."

"Don't do it, Jimmy," I said, touching his arm.

"I have to, Chazz," he said, tightening his grip on the trigger.

"You don't have to Jimmy, I remember."

Jimmy swallowed, but kept his eyes on his father.

"Look at me," I said. "I don't remember everything, but I remember enough.  
Like ... the day I asked you to grow your hair."

Jimmy looked at me, his eyes searching my face for the truth.

"You wanted me to grow a beard, but I didn't want to."

"Too itchy," he whispered, as if afraid to believe.

"Yeah, and then I said that you should grow your hair, that you'd look hot."

Jimmy chewed his lip, still undecided. I stepped closer and put my arm around his shoulder.

"But ... but you don't like boys," he said, his voice cracking.

"I don't like boyZA," I said, grinning despite myself, "just one."

"Really?" he asked, his hands dropping to his sides, "Do I know him?"

Instead of answering, I leaned in and kissed him. His lips were as soft and inviting as I had remembered, and I slid an arm around his waist and pressed him to me.

"Oh sweet zombie Jesus!"

We broke apart to see Darren dry-heaving in disgust. "Do you mean to tell me ... you're both ... the two of you are ..."

"A couple?" asked Coach

"Uhrg!" Darren made a retching noise.

"That's right," I said, smugly, "I'm packing your son's fudge."

"Chazz!" squealed Jimmy, but the flush in his cheeks looked good on him.

"Give Coach your cell," I said, "I think it's time that we called the cops."

~*~*

Twelve long hours (and multiple police interviews later) we were finally home. It seemed like a year ago, that I had woken up in the hospital, and in some ways, I suppose it was. I still couldn't remember everything, of course, and I probably never would, but I had remembered the most important thing of all and that's all that really mattered.

I hadn't spent much time with Jimmy all evening, since they had split us up to be interviewed, but I had found it hard to take my eyes off of him for the entire ride home.

He really was mine, and we really were ... a couple. Cool!

As we entered our bedroom, I turned to shut the door, and was surprised to find myself roughly shoved up against it. Jimmy snaked one hand up my shirt and let the other one slide down the front of my pants to cup my quickly stiffening cock.

His lips brushed against the nape of my neck and he pressed his hips against the firm flesh of my ass. Oh man! Me likey!

I fumbled for my belt as he dragged us, stumbling, towards the bed, and I dropped my pants as he pushed me down on the lower bunk, my knees on the Berber. I huffed in surprise as he spread something cold and slick along the crack of my ass, and then groaned as he pressed a thumb inside me.

"Oh fuck, Jimmy," I moaned, my legs trembling from fatigue and arousal and he pressed with his thighs to spread my knees further apart. I reflexively grabbed the sheets as he pressed his cock against my opening, waiting for a pain that never came, and before I knew it, I was pressing back against his thrusts, amazed that being so stretched and full could feel so good.

His still slick fingers found my cock and I grunted into the mattress, not quite sure if I should press into his hand, or back against his dick, but soon enough we found a rhythm, and before long I had blown my wad all over his fist, and soon after that he grunted into my ear and his thrusting became erratic, then came to a slow stop.

We lay like that for a while, me half on the bed and him draped over me, both of us sweaty and trying to catch our breath, until he rolled off of me and I hauled my sorry carcass up a bit further until my legs rested on the mattress as well.

"Welcome home," he said, his grin evident even in the dim room.

"Shit, if that's how you say 'Get Well Soon,' I'm gonna get shot in the head a lot more often."

"No, don't," he said, one hand gently tracing the line of my jaw, "I don't think I could take that again."

"No, me neither," I agreed. "That was a pretty crazy thing, albait an interesting one."

"What?"

"Albait. You know, when you're trying to catch something, like a memory, and you don't know what it is, so you have to try all different kinds of bait?"

Jimmy turned to look and me, then smiled.

"Yeah, I do know. All bait. I'm glad you finally caught it."

"Yeah," I said, resting my head on the crook of his arm, "me too."

 

Teh Enz


End file.
